


The Things That Are to Be Expected When You’re Roommates with the Company’s Playwright

by noriakki



Category: A3! (Video Game)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Caring, Friendship, Gen, I don't... know how to tag gen fics, Mild Language, Not Beta Read, Roommates, Slice of Life, Spoilers for every play until Oz
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:05:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27220135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noriakki/pseuds/noriakki
Summary: Tsuzuru has a habit of reading the script’s lines aloud when writing.Masumi felt like dying every time he heard his roommate saying “nyantastic!” or “purrfect” or any of the million other shitty cat puns he came up with every other minute when he was writing Sardine Search.The final nail on the coffin is when Tsuzuru’s writing their lines for when Shiro gets reunited with the rest. One more drawn-out “shardines" and Masumi could swear he was going to kill—"Shar... dines...""Oh mygod, could you shut the fuck up?"Masumi's journey as Tsuzuru's roommate from not being sure whether he's alive or not after having written RomiJuli to feeding him protein bars when he was glued to his desk while writing Oz.
Relationships: Minagi Tsuzuru & Usui Masumi
Comments: 24
Kudos: 138





	The Things That Are to Be Expected When You’re Roommates with the Company’s Playwright

**Author's Note:**

> Rated T for (very) mild swearing
> 
> [edit: whoa!!! thanks for 100 kudos!!! (((o(*ﾟ▽ﾟ*)o)))♡ i’m so happy wheeeee]

Tsuzuru has a habit of reading the script’s lines aloud when writing.

Masumi finds it annoying at first, having to hear this. Not only did he not get to be roommates with the director, but he had to be roommates with someone as annoying as Tsuzuru.

Occasionally he’d groan, or scratch his head a little too loud, or slam his desk, or gasp and start rapidly typing. Whatever he did, it was annoying, but at least he could drown it out with his music.

There was one thing he couldn’t totally drown out, though, and that was when he’d read the lines. He couldn’t make his music too loud; he didn’t want to suffer from hearing loss at an early-ass age. He considers it strongly, though, because maybe hearing loss was worth not having to hear Tsuzuru recite the lines to himself.

It sounds awkward and wooden at worst, mediocre at best. Was he really gonna be acting alongside someone as  _ average _ as him?

He tries his best to ignore him and when he finally stops, he can only assume he’s dead.

* * *

Masumi sighs in frustration when he enters his room and sees Tsuzuru writing the Summer Troupe’s play. The dorm was noisier now, with them around. It was irritating.

“Let… me… tell you… a tale… of an ei-ight ye-ar old… Ali Baba… who we-t… his bed…”

Seriously? That sounded so cheap. And the fact that Tsuzuru was even trying to say it in character made it sound even sadder.

Masumi was honestly surprised when he saw Water Me! and he let out a genuine laugh at Yuki’s delivery of that line. He pouts. Tsuzuru does know what he’s doing, he guesses.

* * *

Based on how the leads of the last two plays were decided, Masumi figured that the new Autumn Troupe’s leader, Banri, would be leading their play.

Banri pissed him off. He caused trouble for the director and was always fighting with that Juza guy. If only he could be the lead instead… he could make the director happier. He could make things easier for her.

“Why… do… I have to— Why do I…”

Tsuzuru pauses and repeatedly presses on a key. Backspace, Masumi guesses.

“Why  _ should _ I have to…  _ yeah, that’s it. _ ”

He continues typing, then pauses. “Why should I have to team up with Cheapskate Lansky over here?! His poorness might be contagious!”

Masumi quietly repeats the line, imagining himself as Luciano. “Why should I have to team up with Cheapskate Lansky over here? His poorness might be contagious.”

He smiles, imagining the director being happy with his delivery. He could only hope Banri could do the same.

* * *

With the Winter Troupe around, the dorm’s even noisier than it was before. Masumi’s just glad that this is the last set of people who were gonna join and it couldn’t possibly get noisier than this.

Masumi can’t place the feeling in his gut when faced with the possibility of Mankai being shut down. He’d already gotten used to greeting people when he got home and it’d probably be as much of a hassle to unlearn that as it was to learn it. He wouldn’t be seeing Tsumugi around anymore, which’d suck… he reminded him of his grandma. Sakuya wouldn’t wake him up for school; he’d probably be late more often for a while, considering he’s gotten used to having a human alarm clock.

Masumi shook his head. He wouldn’t have to be sleeping to the sound of a tired university student’s constant groaning and acts of frustration. He wouldn’t have to hear the drawn-out syllables of the lines he wrote as he typed. None of that anymore.

There wouldn’t be any possibility of a stray paper airplane hitting him on his way out to school. He wouldn’t have to deal with hearing Autumn’s delinquent duo’s constant bickering anymore, nor would he have to see Sakyo be so close to the director.

The director.

He wouldn’t be living under the same roof as her anymore.

As always, while Tsuzuru wrote the script, he recited the lines. Typing, typing, typing, then a pause. “You’re a fool, Michael. You’re worried about me, aren’t you, Raphael? Loving a human would only harm you in the end. I know that all too well.”

Tsuzuru’s lines are delivered with less life than usual, but hearing them alleviates Masumi’s concerns. He feels for a second that he has a fighting chance of not losing what he has.

* * *

Alice in Wonderland, huh?

Masumi cringed at the thought of Tsuzuru or Citron having to wear cat ears or bunny ears. At least Sakuya would look okay-ish in either? It’d be weird but he’s got such a baby face that it wouldn’t look too out-of-place. He didn’t have to worry about tainting his eyes or imagination with old-ass Itaru wearing those, knowing he’s the hatter.

“Apparently… my tea… can… wa-ake…” backspacing, “wa-AKE… people up. That’s... the first—” backspacing again, “Apparently my tea can wake people up! Never… heard… that one… before…!”

Masumi feels his blood boil imagining Itaru saying that with his smug tone. Props to Tsuzuru, he guesses, for being able to get it so right.

* * *

He felt like dying every time he heard his roommate saying “nyantastic!” or “purrfect” or any of the million other shitty cat puns he came up with every other minute when he was writing Sardine Search.

The final nail on the coffin is when Tsuzuru’s writing their lines for when Shiro gets reunited with the rest. One more drawn-out “shardines” and Masumi could swear he was going to kill—

“Shar...dines…”

“Oh my _god_ , could you shut the fuck up? And isn’t this scene supposed to be like, emotional or something?”

Tsuzuru felt his face get hot at this. “Sorry, Masumi… and yeah, you’re right, maybe I should—“ Masumi could almost see the lightbulb go off in Tsuzuru’s head when he abruptly stops himself and gasps. “Masumi, you are a genius, of  _ course _ Shiro would know how to say sardines properly by now,” he says, once again typing away at the keyboard.

Masumi’s brows furrow in frustration and confusion. He was just glad that this script was finally almost over.

* * *

“I des...pise... peo...ple... like you... who are... so reckle—!” Tsuzuru says in character, drawing the syllables out, then abruptly stopping, probably pressing backspace.

“No, no, that’s not right...” he pauses

“I despise people like you—!” He starts again without any pauses, “with... a... de-ath... wish!” He continues, once again drawing the syllables out. The sound of typing briefly stops, then it continues. “Yeah. That sounds good.”

It would sound cooler, Masumi thinks, if he would always read the lines after typing them out instead of during.

* * *

One time, Masumi stayed up a little late.

He was dying to know Winter’s second play ended. The lines were a bit awkward, but Masumi knew that it was a part of Tsuzuru’s process. He’d make revisions later in the day then collapse when giving the script.

“Maybe... sh...e’d wanted to... die at the... hands of... her belo...ved brother... in...stead... of... marr-y...ing a sl-ea...zy g...uy like...! that.”

Masumi’s first reaction is for his eyes widen in shock. Ms. Kusanagi’s brother’s the one who killed her?

Immediately after, he thought that Sagishima wouldn’t have phrased it like that. Again, he knew that Tsuzuru would make revisions, so he probably shouldn’t be too worried, but...

“Write that differently.” Masumi says.

“Masumi? You’re still awake?”

Masumi ignores his question. “Sagishima’s a refined guy, right? I think he’d say it in a more formal way.”

Tsuzuru felt his face get warm at the comment. “Y-yeah, I know, this is just a rough draft.”

“I know. Just wanted to point it out.”

“Hmm...” Tsuzuru says, crossing arms.

“How would you think he’d say it, Masumi?”

Masumi takes a moment to think about it. He goes through a couple of different versions in his head. “Mayhaps— sounds weird... Perhaps she’d found it better... perhaps she’d found it more—“ Masumi feels a light bulb go off in his head. “Perhaps she’d found it more palatable—!” He says, feeling a bit of pride in himself for thinking of the word “palatable.” Sagishima would totally say that. “...to die at the hands of her beloved brother than to be married to a man she did not wish to be wed,” he continued.

“Dang, Masumi! That’s really good. I’m writing that in. Thanks for your help.”

“No problem...”

Masumi trusted Tsuzuru to make a good script, but he could sleep peacefully knowing that that line was gonna be perfect.

* * *

The sound of typing is the only thing filling the room when Masumi gets back from school and takes his headphones off to change clothes. It stops, and Tsuzuru reads it aloud; “I am the great alchemist, Boyd! Feast your eyes upon my creations!” He says, louder than usual, probably not having heard Masumi enter the room.

Looks like he’s writing Spring’s next play.

He imagines Sakuya delivering that line and it’s good; Sakuya’s gotten real good since their first play. Then, Citron. With the right amount of practice, he thinks Citron could pull it off, but judging from the lines he heard Tsuzuru reciting yesterday, he felt like Citron was gonna get the role of the homunculus. He imagines himself delivering the line, even whispering it to himself later when he takes a bath.

“I am the great alchemist, Boyd!” he starts with a more sinister tone than Tsuzuru’s interpretation. “I... am the great alchemist, Boyd.” He repeats, this time with a more cocky approach.

“You have the script for your next play, Massu?” Kazunari asks, overhearing him.

“No. Just heard Tsuzuru.”

“Oooh. Break a leg!”

“Thanks.”

When rehearsals come around and they do their first read-through, Itaru delivers it amazingly. Masumi realizes that the last person he considered was the best fit for it and takes a mental note of that, nodding to himself.

* * *

It’s kind of weird to hear Tsuzuru reciting the lines for Summer’s 3rd play.

It wasn’t that his accent was bad or anything, but hearing Tsuzuru speak in such a heavy accent in their room provided a stark contrast to whenever they ate dinner. The same voice he hears saying shit like, “Buckle up, ye scallywags!” he hears saying, “dinner smells real good tonight, Omi!” And it’s even stranger when Tsuzuru’s in the zone and he asks Masumi to get him some water like, “Aye, Mas’mi, mind if ye grab me some drinks from the galley?” without batting an eye. By now, Masumi’s already figured out that “galley” means “kitchen.”

Masumi scratches his head. “Aye aye, Cap’n,” he says in response. Tsuzuru’s eyes widen in embarrassment. “Did I do it again?”

“Yeah,” Masumi responds, unphased.

* * *

“Sakyo’s leading in Autumn’s next play?” Masumi asks, picking up a piece of paper that had messy notes Tsuzuru had taken while watching Yakuza movies.

“Yep,” Tsuzuru said without stopping his typing.

“I see.”

It’s uncharacteristically quiet in the room while Masumi does his homework with one of his ears not covered by headphones or else he wouldn’t be focused on the material. He can’t be totally sure, but he feels like the speed at which Tsuzuru was typing was a little slower than usual. Masumi knew that the theme was yakuza thanks to the notes, but usually he’d have a rough idea of the storyline by now thanks to Tsuzuru’s habit. He wonders what the story could be about, the music moving to the back of his mind and his homework completely discarded from his attention.

“Masumi?” Tsuzuru asks when he pauses to take a sip of his lukewarm coffee, snapping Masumi out of his thoughts.

“Oh?”

“You’d usually be done with your homework by now.”

“Ah, right.”

Masumi didn’t realize that he’d spent twenty whole minutes envisioning what kind of character Sakyo would be playing going off of the yakuza movie notes alone.

“Hey, Tsuzuru?”

“Yeah?”

“Why aren’t you reciting the lines like usual?”

“Well, you saw what happened with Captain Sky, ehe…” the brunet said, sheepishly scratching the back of his neck. “Plus, I realized I was probably disturbing you. I’m sorry it took me so long to realize.”

Masumi frowns. There’s a bookshelf separating them, so Tsuzuru can’t see it. Masumi wasn’t sure why he wasn’t happier about this. Isn’t this what he wanted? For Tsuzuru to shut up? He pouts, realizing that he’d grown to  _ like _ hearing Tsuzuru mumble those lines under his breath, or out loud, or sometimes even straight-up yelling because he knew neither Citron nor Itaru would mind and he thought that he and Sakuya were still out.

He takes his headphones off, sighing. “I don’t mind.”

“What?”

“When you recite your lines. And it’s not like the speech mannerisms stuck to you outside of this room.”

“You really don’t mind?”

“I just said that I don’t.”

“Thanks, Masumi!”

Tsuzuru continues, still quiet, but he was typing faster. Then, after a couple of minutes, Masumi could hear him saying the lines under his breath again.

“Did... I… do... go-ood? I… just… wanted… I just want...? I just wanted—  _ yeah— _ I just wanted… to… make… you… pr-oud…”

Masumi could imagine Taichi saying that. This would be another good production, he thinks.

* * *

Masumi gets out of the bathroom and sees the Winter Troupe all gathered together, talking about their script. Masumi hums, thinking that Tsuzuru would be done by now, so he heads to their room and sees that Tsuzuru’s passed out at his desk.

He looks at his laptop. It says “End,” and the file is saved as “WINTER3-NOCTURNALITY_Final_FinalFinal_FINALFORSURE_HfksjfkJDKS_FINALFINALFINALdraft.docx,” so he figures that it’s okay to print.

He types a note on the document, “I printed the script and gave it to the Director already.” 

“Good job, Tsuzuru,” he says, printing a copy out. He climbs up the ladder to Tsuzuru’s bed and pulls a sheet out and covers him.

While the sheets of paper get printed. Masumi skims through the dialogue. Nodding, he can definitely see who Tsuzuru had in mind when he was writing each role. Reo fit Azuma to a tee, with the mysterious air about him. He could see Homare as Izumi and Tsumugi as Nonomiya. Homare had the chops to deliver a line like “Wanderers of Darkness and Heathens of Life! This holy sword shall be thy judge!”

Masumi then tries to imagine them switching roles. It’d definitely be interesting to see Tsumugi do Izumi’s role.

The papers were done printing, and he fastened them together. He pat Tsuzuru’s back and headed to the lobby.

“Here you go,” he handed the script to the director.

“Masumi?”

“I thought you’d be looking for the script right about now, so I stole the script from Tsuzuru while he wasn’t looking.”

“You what?!”

The director’s panicked face was cute, he thinks. Well, her face is always cute.

“Just kidding,” he says, and her expression calms down. Gorgeous, he thinks.

“Tsuzuru’s dead as usual, so I’m delivering it to you,” he continues.

He didn’t  _ have _ to, though. Knowing him, Tsuzuru probably would’ve been able to carry the script to the living room running on nothing but sheer willpower and then collapsed into the couch after it was off his hands. Masumi figured that it’d be easier for everyone if Tsuzuru stayed dead in their room.

Before heading back to their room to print more copies, Masumi heads for the kitchen, not thinking much about it. He opens a cabinet and sees a bunch of protein bars. “Tasuku?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I have one of these?”

“Sure.”

He gets a sticky note and simply writes “eat.” on it.

* * *

“Thunder!” Tsuzuru whisper-shouts to himself, furiously typing away at his laptop. This was the worst treatment his poor keyboard’s received by far. Understandably so, considering how long it took for him to think of a plot for this play.

Masumi watches the words get typed on the word document while tapping on his shoulder and placing two protein bars on his workspace. “Eat up,” he says.

Tsuzuru pushes them aside, giving Masumi a dismissing grunt as if to say “I don’t want to eat.”

“You have to eat. You’ll die otherwise.”

“And… I’m... okay... with... dy...i—” Tsuzuru responds, accidentally typing it onto the script, “AH, no, Rick wouldn’t say that!” he exclaims, then frantically presses backspace.

“You and your keyboard both need a break. I’ll feed it to you if you won’t eat.”

Tsuzuru dramatically raises his hands, rolling his chair a meter away from his desk and Masumi, very opposed to the idea of a seventeen-year-old holding up a protein bar for him to bite like he was some pet rabbit.

He rolls back to the desk, ripping the wrapper off the protein and taking a bite.

“Thanks, Masumi.”

Masumi hums, a wordless ‘you’re welcome,’ as he gets up from his position next to Tsuzuru and climbs up the ladder to his bed.

For a minute or two, the room is almost totally quiet. No typing, no groaning, scratching of heads, or gasping. The silence is broken when Masumi hears the sound of two wrappers being neatly folded and thrown into a small trash can, immediately followed by aggressive typing.

**Author's Note:**

> While you're here, check out the [tweet](https://twitter.com/tsufferinq/status/1320952640205803521) I made for this fic since I'm super proud of the formatting for it, hehe (～￣▽￣)～  
> I've had this idea for a while and had a sudden burst of motivation two days ago to finally write it!  
> If you read this, I hope you enjoyed it!


End file.
